


and all the king’s horses

by freidynne



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Late Night Conversations, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freidynne/pseuds/freidynne
Summary: On the eve of their march to Tailtean Plains, an army general and a vassal share a drink behind their king’s back.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 9
Kudos: 44





	and all the king’s horses

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers ahead. This was inspired by Sylvain’s “don’t let this chance for vengeance go to waste” line in Crimson Flower Chapter 17, his knights' battlecries in the same chapter, and an amazing CF fanart of Dimitri, Dedue and Sylvain under the rain.

“I won't let you.”

The table thumped under the force of his fists, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet of the night. Sylvain watched in disdain as the inkpot beside his fingers toppled down, its contents spilling then staining the strategy maps the council had meticulously laid out for the impending battle with the empire.

The impending battle.

Sylvain had prepared himself for the worst. Had spent sleepless nights imagining multiple scenarios that might lead their army to victory or defeat. He knew that the battle at Tailtean Plains would decide the future of Faerghus. Of Dimitri. It was the reason why he convinced Dedue to meet him after the war council many nights ago, far from anyone’s eyesight and earshot. If His Majesty knew what Sylvain had discovered in Cornelia’s study, if he knew what he had proposed to Dedue, if he found out what they had agreed on… But the odds were not in their favor. Sylvain had no choice.

And yet.

“I am not asking for your permission,” Dedue said, his ever-so-calm countenance challenging the growing desperation in Sylvain’s chest. “I am merely informing you that—”

“I won’t allow it,” Sylvain repeated, balled fists grounding harder against the wooden surface. He absently noted the pressed parchments spread before him. The comprehensive formations they had finalized just a few days ago suddenly felt inconsequential to the reality of the scenario Dedue was proposing. “He needs you.”

“Precisely.”

“Listen.” He closed his eyes, patience slowly wearing thin. “The only reason I suggested we give crest stones to the soldiers is so that we can have a higher chance against the Adrestian army, so that we can have a higher chance for revenge. If you… if you turn into a beast… What would become of our victory? What would become of Dimitri?”

Dedue did not humor him with a response, and instead devoted his attention to pouring himself a drink. The generals somehow saw it fit to empty the contents of the war council’s cellarette as the imperial army marched closer to Fhirdiad. Glory to the flag of the knights, they had said. Good fortune to His Majesty, they had chanted. It was a surprise there was anything left.

Dedue took a long sip, and for a while, Sylvain believed he had finally gotten through to him. The man used to avoid Faerghan liquor as much as he could. When he blinked, however, he was greeted by the vassal’s verdant grey eyes, steely with fierce loyalty and determination.

Liquid courage.

“You seem to be suggesting that my life is more valuable than the knights who are willing to make the same sacrifice for His Majesty,” Dedue admonished, voice quiet even in the middle of an argument. Behind him, a torch crackled peacefully amidst the dark, casting shadows on his face.

“I don’t mean to belittle anyone’s... it’s not—”

“His Majesty’s vengeance is my vengeance. His victory is my victory,” Dedue continued. If he found amusement in making the usually eloquent general at a loss for words, he did not show it. “A life that would bring him closer to the fruition of his dream would be a life well lived.”

Sylvain shook his head and collapsed on the seat behind him, the activities of the day and the uncertainties of tomorrow weighing heavily on his shoulders. He needed a bath, he decided. And maybe a drink. And a body to warm his bed.

“He cannot lose you, Dedue. You’re all that he has,” he breathed, meeting the vassal’s stubborn gaze with one of his own.

Dedue poured another generous glass and pushed it towards Sylvain. “He has you too.”

“That’s different and you know it,” Sylvain countered, staring angrily at Dedue’s offer. “In the battlefield, we can both lend him our strength. Outside the battlefield… I will never be who you are to him.”

“Sylvain—”

“I am fighting for Dimitri because he is my king and I am his knight. Because I am his friend. I want nothing more than to liberate our kingdom and to avenge Ingrid and Felix and Ashe and all our fallen friends. I want us to win and end this war once and for all. But what is the point of winning if Dimitri loses you in the end?”

“Sylvain.”

Sylvain looked up and realized he was rambling. Dedue set the bottle on the table.

“We’re of the same mind,” Dedue said, somber and sober despite the liquor. “Everyone seems to mistake my loyalty as blind obedience. It is not. My wish simply aligns perfectly with His Majesty’s own. I know the consequences of using the crest stone — and like the knights who have agreed to use it for Faerghus, I am choosing to make the necessary sacrifice. Not just for His Majesty but also for Duscur. For myself.”

Sylvain hung his head in defeat. What a fool he was to come up with such a desperate plan only to backpedal when confronted with its consequences! It was brilliant in theory, borne out of his dark desire to avenge Felix and Ingrid’s deaths. Now, it sounded nothing but a callous attempt to pit the people he should be protecting against the enemy he wanted to defeat. What would Dimitri do if he found out? What would Felix and Ingrid say? Whispers of Miklan's fate in Conand Tower echoed in his mind.

“I never should have made the suggestion in the first place.”

“Like I said, I am not asking for your permission. I would still choose to die for him with or without the crest stone,” Dedue smiled ruefully at the glass in his hands. The torch lights danced sadly in his eyes. “I am merely informing you of my plan. You’re the only person I can entrust His Majesty with.”

Sylvain gritted his teeth, dread forming at the pit of his stomach. “Nothing I would say would convince you otherwise.”

“You are correct.”

“Then promise me one thing,” he pleaded, fiery bangs falling limp on his cheeks as he turned to face Dedue fully.

“Anything for His Majesty.”

“Promise me you won’t use the crest stone unless absolutely necessary. I will do all that I can to protect you and Dimitri.”

“But—”

“Promise me, Dedue.”

Dedue stared at him in protest, suddenly confronted with the same dilemma he brought upon Sylvain. “You are supposed to stay with His Majesty after I…”

“I told you. He needs you alive,” Sylvain said in defiance. “I will be your first line of defense from the empire. I promise you, you won’t have to resort to drastic measures as long as I live.”

They studied each other for a moment, both searching for a compromise. 

“Then live,” Dedue finally conceded, eyes burning bright with a challenge. A promise.

“I will,” Sylvain vowed. “And you will.”

“We will,” Dedue agreed with a taut smile.

Sylvain picked up the drink Dedue had poured earlier, ignoring how the base of the glass had become stained with spilled ink.

“Glory to the flag of Faerghus.”

Dedue nodded and clinked glasses with his friend. “Good fortune to His Majesty.”


End file.
